Arms
by accioremote7
Summary: "It wasn't until Professor Flitwick had finished his introduction that he realized that on his other side, Lily Evans sat next to him. And their arms were touching." L/J fluff


**A/N: **This is just a really quick, fluffy Jily piece I found half-written on my computer. I was watching Skins, and this was sort of inspired by a moment from a scene on there. Hope everyone enjoys, and DISCLAIMER: i haven't edited this, so it might sound like it was typed by a monkey. I hope you read it anyway.

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**Arms**

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It was a lecture-day in Charms that week. The windows on the left side of the classroom were open, blowing in a early-fall breeze, rustling cloth and parchment. Professor Flitwick stood on his stack of books at the front of the classroom, as per usual. He had chosen to speak about the theory behind the making of the _Avis _charm, as he knew it would most definitely be on the NEWTs.

The day had just begun, affording everyone in the classroom to be bathed by morning light and still rubbing the sleepiness from their eyes. The seventh year students settled in as they trickled into the classroom, talking lazily to their peers, plopping down in desks, one even stealthily munching on a half-eaten apple.

James, after staying up late the night before and sleeping through breakfast, slid in to the seat next to his friend Peter without a thought.

It wasn't until Professor Flitwick had finished his introduction that he realized that on his other side, Lily Evans sat next to him.

And their arms were touching.

Now, in any other time with any other person, this would just simply be a natural occurrence. Sitting next to someone in class and sharing desk space, you were bound to have an accidental bump of the hand or skim of the arm.

It was no big deal.

However, this was James Potter. And Lily Evans. And if you were to ask anyone what made these two seventh year students so extraordinary about accidental touches, they would tell you it was indeed a long story.

A seven-year long story. A story borne from petty dislike, to bickering, to yelling, to hatred, to public fights, to painful rejections, to it's boiling point, to cold indifference, and then to acquaintances. Full of arrogance and slaps and tears. Of course, eventually it transitioned to like and to love, but that is another story.

Today, James and Lily were just coworkers (as they were both Head students, both had made an effort to be cordial with one another) with a long past.

And both their arms rested on the table, among the sprawled out books, quills, pieces of parchment, and other rubbish.

His arm was pressed against hers.

Her arm was pressed against his.

Mirroring each other in the relaxed fingers, the backs of their forearms touched.

He couldn't remember; had he touched hers? Had hers touched his? Was it merely a coincidence, an accident, a fluke, or was it a sign? Was she purposefully leaving her arm there so his skin could touch hers?

He didn't care. All he cared about was the fact that his tanner, muscled forearm was touching her paler, softer one. Her skin was warm, from what he could feel.

He snuck a peak at her. She looked completely calm, slight smile at her lips as always, other hand also resting on the desktop. There was no sign of recognition. Maybe she didn't notice.

He swallowed thickly. He hoped it wasn't too obvious.

She was just too beautiful.

He fought the urge to ruffle his hair. It was too hot in the classroom. He loosened his tie.

He was going mad. Absolutely mad, and all because Lily bloody Evans' arm was touching his.

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She kept her eyes trained at the empty piece of parchment on her desk in front of her. She tried to listen to Professor Flitwick's words, but they just sounded muffled and far away. The only thing she could focus on was James Potter's arm touching hers.

She wished she could go back to the time where she would immediately yank her arm away, send him a withering glance, and get on with her life.

However, she couldn't. It wasn't that she _liked _the feeling of his skin against hers, and it was _definitely _not that she liked the idea of him liking it too.

She was just conflicted.

She shook her head. This was James Potter anyway, it didn't matter. He was just a boy.

A boy who was kind and sweet and funny, who kept up with his studies and Head duties but still found time to be Quidditch captain, who was so obviously a loyal and great friend, who carried some of her books for her that one time her bag broke and she had to carry them all in her arms.

…That's how other people would describe him as. _She _certainly wouldn't, she told herself.

But she didn't pull her arm away. Not until the end of Charms, when her best friend Mary pulled her up from her seat, chattering on about the date Benjy Fenwick had just asked her on.

Unfortunately, even when she pulled her arm away, she still felt it tingling from where James' was touching hers.

She stole a glance back at him, only to find him staring down at his arm hazily. Her stomach gave a lurch, and she fought down a smile.

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**_Please review!_**


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